


Black Holes and Revelations

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five conversations that fail to keep Watson at Baker Street, and one that works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Holes and Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Starlight" by Muse. Also, switching POV, I hope it ended up being clear whose head we are in for each.

1\. Watson

"Holmes. You have tried every possible method to prevent my leaving, and then some, but you have yet to give me a reason to stay. Your actions are only providing me with more reasons to leave!" I draw in a breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. "Can you give me a reason?"

_Say it, Holmes. You know what I need to hear. Say it. Say, I love you. Say, Watson, I love you. Say it. Please. Even if you cannot say it, give me a reason, any reason. Give me any reason to stay, and I will._

Holmes says nothing. Says nothing, and will not even look at me. I close my eyes, my hands tightening on the bindings of my last stack of journals.

"I didn't think so," I whispers, and leave.

*

2\. Holmes

"Holmes. You have tried every possible method to prevent my leaving, and then some, but you have yet to give me a reason to stay. Your actions are only providing me with more reasons to leave!" Watson draws in a breath, then lets it out in a weary sigh. "Can you give me a reason?"

I think, _I love you. Surely I can say it. Just say it. He's already leaving; you can't lose him any more than you already are. Say it!_

My mouth refuses to form the words, and I remain frozen with indecision, fearing that no matter what I say it will not come out properly, that no words will be enough to keep him at my side. He watches me, and I can pick out the second the moment passes, when it becomes too late, and now I will never know if saying it could have changed things.

"Well," he says, and sets down his stack. "Well," and turns, and leaves, and it is too late.

*

3\. Watson

"Holmes. You have tried every possible method to prevent my leaving, and then some, but you have yet to give me a reason to stay. Your actions are only providing me with more reasons to leave!" I draw in a breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. "Can you give me a reason?"

He becomes more awkward than I have ever seen him, unable to glance in my direction, unable to still his hands, and his words are tentative, uncertain. "I will miss you."

It is more of an admission then I have ever gotten from him, and I think I know what he is trying to say. Trying, and failing. I think I know, but it's not enough if he can't say it; I am an understanding man, but it is not enough to keep me here, not when everything else is driving me away, when every moment with him is becoming torture.

"That is not a reason," I tell him as I leave, and he has no response.

It is months before we manage to force ourselves into each other's company again. We meet more frequently after that, but it is never quite the same. He asks me on no more cases, and I bring nothing with which to write with me.

*

4\. Holmes

"Holmes. You have tried every possible method to prevent my leaving, and then some, but you have yet to give me a reason to stay. Your actions are only providing me with more reasons to leave!" Watson draws in a breath, then lets it out in a weary sigh. "Can you give me a reason?"

"I love you," and I cannot believe I have said it.

Watson closes his eyes, his hand coming up to pinch the slope of his nose. He sighs, and his shoulders slump, and nothing he says will be good.

"So does Mary," he says, and leaves.

I wonder what else I could have said.

I see him on the street from time to time, but he hardly acknowledges my presence. As much as I long for his companionship again, if he will give me nothing else, I cannot bring myself to force the issue. We do not meet again.

*

5\. Watson

"Holmes. You have tried every possible method to prevent my leaving, and then some, but you have yet to give me a reason to stay. Your actions are only providing me with more reasons to leave!" I draw in a breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. "Can you give me a reason?"

"I love you, " and I cannot believe that he has said it.

I go very still, my eyes focused on the books in my hand, but seeing something else entirely.

I have never wanted to stay more than now, at this moment, when I have finally broken down Holmes' barriers. I want to stay, but I need to go. I know where this will lead, and I know how it will end; heartbreak all around, no better than if I left now, only with the added pain of memories weighing us down.

It is something I do not think I can survive.

"All the more reason to leave," I whisper. I turn, stopping at the expression on Holmes' face. I cannot tell him it is for the best; he will not believe me, and I am not entirely sure myself.

Holmes is dead before the year is up; Mary is dead in two years from childbirth, and I am all alone with memories and regrets

*

1\. Holmes

"Holmes. You have tried every possible method to prevent my leaving, and then some, but you have yet to give me a reason to stay. Your actions are only providing me with more reasons to leave!" Watson draws in a breath, then lets it out in a weary sigh. "Can you give me a reason?"

I think the room is spinning, and it is vitally important that I make Watson understand me. It is the only thing left in my mind, but I cannot deduce how to show him, how to make him finally see. He is not able to put together all the signs, and I am not capable of showing him how.

He is watching me as I struggle for breath, and I will not lose him.

"Holmes," he says. "Holmes. Say it."

"I do not have words," I tell him, hopelessly.

He comes towards me, and kneels, and his face is open and worried. "Holmes. I cannot deduce what you will do," and I know this, you do not have to tell me, I know this, "but I must tell you anyways. I love you."

I am speechless once again; he is the only one who can ever render me so, and I can only hope this does not become a common occurrence. Watson is settling back, his expression turning to resignation. "I love you," he says, quietly, almost hopelessly, "and I cannot stay any longer. It is dragging me down, every moment I remain. I have to get out while I can."

No. "Do not leave me," and it is nothing more than a whisper. "Please. I have only just discovered I have a heart, and if you leave you will take it with you. How long can a man live in such a condition?"

Watson goes still, his hand pressed flat against the floor, his eyes watching them as though they are the only steady things in the room. "Do not say such things," he whispers, and I will not let him go.

"John. Stay with me. I love you."

He stays.


End file.
